The Wandering Jew — Volume 07 eBook

“This greenhouse, which I had arranged according
to your orders, has only one issue—­by a
door leading into a little lane. The gardener
gets in that way every morning, so as not to have
to pass through the apartments. Having finished
his work, he does not return thither during the day.”

“What do you mean? what is your project?”
said Adrienne, looking at Florine with growing surprise.

“The plants are so disposed, that, I think,
if even the shade were not there, which screens the
glass that separates the saloon from the greenhouse,
one might get near enough to hear what was passing
in the room, without being seen. When I was superintending
the arrangements, I always entered by this greenhouse
door. The gardener had one key, and I another.
Luckily, I have not yet parted with mine. Within
an hour, you may know how far to trust M. Rodin.
If he betrays the prince, he betrays you also.”

“What say you?” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville.

“Set out instantly with me; we reach the side
door; I enter alone, for precaution sake—­if
all is right, I return—­”

“I beg your pardon, madame,” said the
girl, casting down her eyes, with confused and sorrowful
air; “you had suspicions, and me seems ’tis
the only way to confirm or destroy them.”

“Stoop to listen to a conversation—­never!”
replied Adrienne.

“Madame,” said Mother Bunch, suddenly,
after same moments’ thought, “permit me
to tell you that Mdlle. Florine is right.
The plan proposed is a painful one, but it is the
only way in which you can clear up, perhaps, for ever,
your doubts as to M. Rodin. Notwithstanding the
evidence of facts, in spite of the almost certainty
of my presentiments, appearances may deceive us.
I was the first who accused M. Rodin to you. I
should not forgive myself all the rest of my life,
did I accuse him wrongfully. Beyond doubt, it
is painful, as you say, madame, to listen to a conversation—­”
Then, with a violent effort to console herself, she
added, as she strove to repress her tears, “Yet,
as your safety is at stake, madame—­for,
if this be treachery, the future prospect is dreadful—­I
will go in your place—­to—­”

“Not a word more, I entreat you,” cried
Mdlle. de Cardoville, interrupting. “Let
you, my poor friend, do for me what I thought degrading
to do myself? Never!”

Then, turning to Florine, she added, “Tell M.
de Bonneville to have the carriage got ready on the
instant.”

“You consent, then!” cried Florine, clasping
her hands, and not seeking to conceal her joy; and
her eyes also became full of tears.